


Rathe

by trueblackhand



Series: Scrapbook Shimadas [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha!Genji, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Incest, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sibling Incest, omega!hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trueblackhand/pseuds/trueblackhand
Summary: Rathe:literary, adjective•(of a person or their actions)prompt and eager•(of flowers or fruit)blooming or ripening early in the yearA dull throbbing settles low in Hanzo's gut, the feeling only made worse by Genji’s proximity. His neck hovers inches away from Hanzo’s face, the scent of him too close.Alpha, alpha, alpha.It resonates within Hanzo, stirring up something forbidden, but wanted. And he does want. So badly it aches.





	Rathe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [darkwulflord](http://darkwulflord.tumblr.com/) who wanted some sweet incesty omegaverse-- thank you! I hope this delivers!

“Ne, Anija,” Genji pauses just long enough between blows to give Hanzo a wicked smile, “it’s like you’re not even trying today.”

“Tch.” 

It’s all Hanzo can manage, squaring his jaw and tilting his head up at his brother. 

Whether he wants to admit it or not, there’s an uncomfortable feeling forming tight in his chest. Something in Genji’s words ringing true. The sensation is unplaceable but present, forcing him into a defensive crouch when he can’t keep up with his brother’s onslaught. 

He’d been fine not ten minutes ago, shoving Genji down to the floor and pinning him there with an ease that spoke of practise. That’s not to say his brother can never best him; it’s one of the reasons he values the time they spend sparring together. 

Getting his clanmates to fight him had always been a difficult task, but since his presentation they all but refuse to stand against him. 

An omega first born heir. Hanzo knows it’s laughable. 

But they’d never beaten him, even before. 

Genji isn’t like them, he never backs down. He’s fast too, a challenge where no one else has been, agile and strong enough to push when they get down to it. 

Genji punctures holes in his defense, well timed strikes that Hanzo sweeps away with the backs of his arms, gritting his teeth. It’s more reflexive than anything else, the product of a lifetime immersed in martial arts. 

Still, Hanzo’s not fighting like he could be, as he  _ should  _ be. 

His usual thrill, the fire bright spark he feels at the prospect of victory, is oddly dulled today. The act of striking his brother down, defeating him, feels abhorrent or-- no, it’s more than that.

A stiffness courses through him, some ancient, buried instinct locking his joints together until he freezes. Stopping dead in his tracks. 

Genji’s hand catches on his wrist after his last, sloppy block, using the grip to twist his arm and kick his legs out from under him, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Hanzo refuses to go down alone, but he's given no reprieve, Genji simply uses the fall to wrangle him into a hold, laughing all the while. 

“It’s like you’re letting me win,” he teases, wrapping his long limbs around Hanzo when he tries to wiggle free. 

The feeling from earlier returns, harsher now, a dull throbbing low in his gut, made worse by Genji’s proximity. His neck hovers inches away from Hanzo’s face, the scent of him too close.  _ Alpha, alpha, alpha. _ It resonates within Hanzo, stirring up something forbidden, but wanted. And he does want. So badly it aches. 

“I-- am  _ not,” _ he forces the words out, and as soon as they leave his lips he knows they’re false. The truth shudders through him; he wants to be pinned, helpless,  _ taken. _

Like this Hanzo can feel every inch of Genji’s body, from the hard planes of muscle, to the soft swell of his cock brushing against his thigh. It’s innocent, they’re only playing, yet a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine whistles out of Hanzo’s nose before he can catch it. 

Head tipping to the side, Hanzo unintentionally bares the pale column of his throat. A gesture that’s uncharacteristically submissive. The heavy musk of Genji’s scent clouds his head, makes his breath come harder. 

_ ‘You are siblings,’  _ Sojiro’s words swim back to him through the slowly gathering haze,  _ ‘you will not affect each other.’  _

He remembers wanting to cry then, or laugh, exchanging a cautious glance with Genji, his dull, impassive look mirrored on his brother’s face. 

For him it’s only ever been Genji, since the day of his first heat. Sweet citrus, dewy spring air and the lingering scent of neroli blossoms. It makes him shudder, the beginnings of wetness soaking into the twist of his fundoshi. 

Genji tenses against him. Realising. 

Hanzo’s face heats, filling with the same shame that has haunted him for years. 

“I--  _ Oh, _ anija, you’re early.” 

Yes. 

Genji doesn’t have to tell him that, he already knows. Two weeks before he’s due and this has brought him before his time. It’s no coincidence. 

“Get off me,” it comes out cold and clipped, Hanzo trying to disguise the tremor in his voice. 

Having Genji so close, pressing against him intimately, does nothing to ease the steadily growing warmth in his stomach. “Genji,” Hanzo tries again but his brother is sniffing at him, nosing up against the swelling scent glands in his neck and inhaling.

The grip doesn’t loosen. It stays firm for a long moment, Genji seeming content to hold Hanzo down while the tip of his nose grazes delicate skin. 

Ticklish, yet the touch stirs something he’d rather not think about. Not while Genji is here. But Hanzo can’t get seem get him to budge no matter how he tries to prise him away. Changing his hold, Genji settles them into something more comfortable while keeping Hanzo pinned under his weight.

There's a matching flush to Genji’s cheeks, his eyes glassy when Hanzo finds them again. “Have you ever thought about--” he can guess where this is going, “finding someone to help you with your heats?” It’s an innocent enough question, but something in the way Genji says it makes him squint. 

Hooking up for heats and ruts is commonplace, there are  _ apps  _ for it, but Hanzo knows without a doubt it’s not for him. Not when-- 

“There is no one I want,” he cuts the thought off with words, unable to meet Genji’s penetrating stare. 

All the other alphas smell like nothing interesting to him. A waft of emotion, sweat, and a dark, unappealing stench his mind has tied to them. There’s only Genji, standing clear from the crowd, his scent alone enough to send a rush of heat through Hanzo without fail. 

“You’re lying, anija, I can smell it,” Genji sing songs the words against the shell of his ear, the hot puff of air chasing shivers down Hanzo’s back, and Genji seems hyper aware of his squirming. A leg shifts, one of Genji’s knees pressing his thigh firmly to the ground. 

“It’s the same for you isn’t it?” 

His heart seizes, still and locked within the cage of his ribs.

Hanzo doesn’t need to ask, he already knows-- and he’s suddenly very conscious that his father is away on business, leaving the two of them alone. Unsupervised.  Sojiro absent and unable to pry them apart. 

“No one smells like you do,” Genji’s words are full of a warm longing, one Hanzo recognises so innately it makes his gut clench, “let me take care of you. You always look after me, anija, I want to return the favour.” 

Leaning down, Genji seals his mouth around the too sensitive skin of Hanzo’s neck, sharp teeth scraping over him with the promise of more. 

The move forces a whimper from Hanzo’s throat, unable to contain it. Genji is cheating. There is nothing fair in how his brother suckles at him, barely teasing the pressure of a bite that Hanzo  _ needs. _ His whole body thrums, aching to be marked and claimed and filled.

“Let me show you how grateful I am,” Genji breathes it into him, the movement of his lips patterning against Hanzo’s skin. 

“I-- Genji,” it’s no longer a protest, the plea there is barely hidden.  _ Touch me. _

It’s always been a point of conflict; wanting his brother like this. Shame lingers in the corner of his mind, overrun with the need pulsing through him. His hips loosen in their sockets, his legs inching open wider so Genji can push between them. 

And he does. 

His cock rests heavy against Hanzo, the solid length of it hard enough to cut diamonds. 

No longer innocent. Hanzo’s veins flood with pheromones, his heat kicking up into full swing. He’s never been blessed with the warning some omegas get, the slow build of intensity. It’s sudden, slick gathering and dampening the back of his gi. The room feels sucked dry of air, his lungs burning, faintly trembling with nerves.

“Anija--” 

The grip Genji has on him finally goes slack and all Hanzo does is curl his arms around his brother’s shoulders. He reaches up and grabs a fistful of bright green hair and drags Genji into a kiss. It’s short lived but messy, open mouthed, and Hanzo parts with a flick of his tongue, wanting to taste.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and watches dark eyes raise in surprise. A smile draws across his face at that; Genji had expected a rebuke, and Hanzo had offered him only encouragement. 

Genji finds his mouth again, kissing him. Nothing chaste, only heavy, reverent passion, sweeping his tongue deep between the willing part of Hanzo’s lips. 

Hanzo tugs harder where his hands are rooted at the base of Genji’s scalp, a desperate noise punctured out of him when Genji’s hips begin to rock. The pressure is demanding, like Genji wants to rut into him then and there. Hanzo wishes he would, keens for it in the back of his throat until he’s quieted. 

“I know, I know.” 

Genji’s words have a rumble to them, something intrinsically alpha that makes Hanzo jaw go slack. Then there are arms reaching under him, scooping him up, Genji cradling him like a bride. It’s embarrassing, but Hanzo feels inexplicably safe with his nose buried in the crook of Genji’s neck, his world awash with the scent of heat and desire. 

Genji wants him. The confirmation is enough to make him giddy. 

“I’m heavy.” A half hearted protest.

“So don’t complain,” Genji teases, and though he doesn’t sound strained, Hanzo’s still impressed he has the strength to haul him back to his room. 

It’s not that far from the dojo, but by the time they get there he’s antsy, squirming in Genji’s arms. The ache of his heat makes it hard to stay still, and he’s all but twitching until Genji lays a hand over the back of his neck and squeezes. 

The tension bleeds out of Hanzo so fast he ends up dizzy, and he huffs as Genji chuckles unrepentantly at him. 

“Is that what it takes to calm you down?” Genji asks, dumping Hanzo unceremoniously onto the futon and crawling over him. 

“You always were a cheater.” 

Genji silences him with a kiss, all slick tongue and teeth, deeper than before. Biting at Hanzo’s lips, laying claim. 

They tangle. Hanzo’s nails dig their way under Genji’s clothes to leave red marks on freshly bared skin. He forgets himself, forgets what it means until Genji’s hands pull at the sash tying his gi and strips him down to nothing but his fundoshi. 

“So traditional, anija.” 

Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut at the words, even as Genji’s voice tapers into a growl, the scent of heat clearly hitting full force. 

Strong hands hold firm at his hips, and Genji flips him, tugging the underwear off and leaving him exposed, slick and ready to be taken.

Genji delves between his legs, fingers swiping over his cleft. The contact fleeting.  _ Not enough. _ Hanzo’s knees knock apart, driven by instinct as the pressure grows more insistent, almost slipping in, but never quite there. 

“You smell like honeysuckle.” 

The words are rushed, barely a mumble from Genji’s lips as he noses between Hanzo’s thighs, tongue lapping over him, drinking him in. Liquid flame spurs through Hanzo’s stomach, his hips arching to better present himself for Genji’s mouth. 

_ “Oh--” _ Hanzo’s cheeks and chest flush hot with blood, a low, mortified groan stuttering out of him. 

“And you taste just as sweet,” Genji purrs, his fingers drifting to massage over that taught patch of skin that spans from the swell of Hanzo’s balls to the slick, wanton entrance to his body. Rolling tight, practised motions that sink into tender flesh. 

It’s a tease of a touch, but one that shakes Hanzo almost as much as Genji’s tongue, like he’s being fucked outside in. He can feel himself readying for Genji to take him, the evidence of it dripping down and coating those wandering fingers, Hanzo’s chest heaving. 

Genji takes mercy, and for a second Hanzo is submerged in a cotton white fog, two digits easing their way into him and spreading. From behind he can hear Genji sucking a breath in through his teeth as his hole spasms and tries to draw them deeper.

“Fuck,” a stuttered curse as Genji pushes another inside him, “you open up so nicely, anija.” 

“Genji, ah, it’s--” then those fingers curl, knuckles rubbing up against that cluster of nerves inside as his thumb bares down on Hanso’s perineum. 

He chokes on his moan, cock twitching and dampening the sheets under him. More heat flushes his skin, his thighs shake and Genji’s fingers don’t even move. It feels like--

Like a  _ knot.  _

That steady, unyielding pressure, keeping him open. Hanzo clenches down on it, breath knocked out of him, and it’s his brother.  _ His brother. _ Undoing him so easily, keying him high enough that he could topple with the barest of friction. 

Then Genji pulls his fingers free, takes all that sweet, blissful contact and leaves him; gaping and trying to grip on nothing. 

Animal and gutted, the noise Hanzo makes is filled with sharp, painful need. His nerves flitted open, raw with want, his cries descending into small, pitiful whimpers.

“You don’t get to come unless I’m inside you, anija,” Genji croons to him, lips grazing the backs of his thighs. 

“I--I want--” You. It. That. 

Everything. 

All Hanzo can smell is the the cloying sweet of his own slick, and Genji, sharp and citrus. His vision blurs, dull and obscured where he’s buried his face into the pillows. It doesn’t matter, his focus is pinpoint, narrowed down to only Genji and the promise of salvation. 

“What do you want, Hanzo, my cock, my knot?” Genji mouths against him, biting into the meat of his thigh. “You want me to fill you up and make it stop hurting?” 

Hanzo nods, mute, and turns just quickly enough to see Genji set himself upright and lick at his fingers. Heat shocks through his core. One taste not enough. 

“I will, but you’ll have to ask nicely.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping,” Hanzo snaps, the words spoken without thought, and then--  _ oh. _

Genji’s hand reaches under him to grip at his cock, effectively silencing his protests. “Am I not already?” He asks, voice cheeky and familiar, even as he strokes where Hanzo is painfully hard. 

There’s no answer Hanzo can give, all he can do is hold still for the fingers that play over his crown, and groan weakly. Barely back from the brink and feels as though Genji could push him over again.

“No.” 

Empathetically;  _ no. _ Even if Hanzo’s body sings its approval. 

“Then you’ll have to ask nicer.” 

Biting his tongue, Hanzo refuses to yield, stubbornly holding onto the cries that rest at the edge of his lips. 

Genji allows him no reprieve, spreading the slickness that beads at his tip and toying with the length until he trembles. Hips buckling as Hanzo tries to fuck himself into his brother’s palm. The sheets grate against his chest with every thrust, leaving the stiffened peaks of his nipples raw and oversensitive.

A thumb circles over his rim, and Hanzo gives to it, body too willing, parting even for the lightest of touches. His stomach tightens, tension mounting to an unbearable peak. He can hear Genji murmuring under his breath, hand squeezing the tip of his cock as that digit breeches him. 

“Genji, Genji--” he’s going to come.

“Ah, now what did I say, anija?” Genji’s voice is silken, saccharine sweet, his hand shifting to constrict the base of Hanzo’s cock. Cutting him off, denying him again. 

It hurts. More than any blow Genji has ever dealt him. Lancing up his spine and searing his circuits, sharp pin pricks forming in the corners of his eyes. 

Hanzo reaches beneath him, hand pressing against his stomach and lower. If he could just finish--

His wrist ends up caught in a strong grip. Genji using the hold to turn him onto his back, firmly placing his hand back down by his head.

“No touching.” 

Appropriately cowed, Hanzo settles Genji with a baleful stare. He knows he’s red in the face, colour bleeding down to his chest at being caught, his mouth wet and open. By comparison Genji looks only slightly disheveled, his hair a wild green tangle, satisfied grin curving his lips, cock pulled free from his pants and leaking at the head. 

Hanzo’s struck with the urge to lean forward and take it into his mouth, to string Genji along in retribution and return his sensual cruelty.

“Always so stubborn.” Fond, amused. Genji’s hands reach to tweak at the delicate pink buds of Hanzo’s nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “But how long will it last?” 

The touch makes Hanzo Writhe, but Genji seems determined to push him further. He releases Hanzo to take himself in hand, dragging the thick head of his cock between Hanzo’s thighs. Nudging it up against his hole.

“Please,” Hanzo caves, voice stripped. 

“Please what?” 

“Fuck me, just-- fuck me, please.” 

“Well done, anija.” 

Given no more warning, Genji pushes into him. 

Slick and ready, Hanzo offers no resistance, mewling for it and wrapping his legs around Genji’s waist, pulling him in deeper.

Lidded eyes watch him, Genji’s lips parted in pleasure as he lifts one of Hanzo’s legs over his shoulder. The last inch of him sinks in, forcing a cry from Hanzo’s throat as he’s filled, world fading grey at the corners.

Then he’s being fucked, no longer teased or strung out, but  _ fucked. _ Genji rutting into him with short, fevered thrusts. Twisting his hips until he finds the angle that makes Hanzo sob. A hand comes up to cover his face, Hanzo hiding his shame at the sloppy, wet sound of Genji taking him so thoroughly-- damp skin against the slick that coats his ass and thighs.

Genji’s feels like solid flame inside of him, so hot and hard his vision swims, stolen in a blaze of red. His free hand fists in the sheet, holding on, trying to find the comfort of an anchor in the storm as every press of Genji’s cock against his prostate makes him keen. 

“Yes, Genji, yes--” 

This is so much more than tongue or fingers, and Hanzo stares up at his brother’s face, punch drunk, hand uncovering his eyes just so he can watch Genji move over him. 

“Anija,” Genji’s voice is filled with just as much raw passion, and he drops Hanzo’s thigh in favour of covering him with his body and kissing at his throat. “You’re so beautiful like this, ani.” 

“Do it, do it--” Hanzo breathes his permission, tilting his head off to the side. 

“You’ve always been mine.” 

Teeth break the surface of his skin.

A deep, claiming mark laid right over the glands buried in Hanzo’s neck. 

The rush of blood is sucked into Genji’s greedy mouth, his hips still working into him, the thick head of his cock scraping Hanzo’s prostate with every thrust. It’s enough, finally enough, and Genji doesn’t try to hold him back as he peaks, coming with a shout, his trembling body spasming around Genji’s length, whimpering in the back of his throat.

After being denied for so long his orgasm leaves him shaking, trembling, broken into pieces and remade. Every thrust spills more and more fluid, orgasm milked out of him, his legs limp and loose in their sockets. 

Mouth rimmed in red, Genji’s honey brown eyes smolder, a predatory smile framing blood stained teeth. 

“That’s one.” 

His tone makes it clear he isn’t done.

With a open mouthed kiss, Genji moves, shifting to draw Hanzo’s hips up, almost bending him in half. 

Still oversensitive and shaking, Hanzo’s cry is gutted as Genji pushes his body into overtime. Rutting into him with the same force as before. It borders on too much, too soon, but Hanzo’s cock tries to stir despite it, his nerves rubbed raw. 

His heat makes it easier to bare, the momentary release he’d felt upon completion surging back, needing to please his alpha. 

In the back of his mind Hanzo gets the vague impression Genji has done this before. Or so it would seem as he stops trembling and begins moaning for Genji’s cock anew, interest peaking again, his refractory period cut down to barely anything.

“I wonder how many times I can make you come tonight, anija.” Genji’s voice is rougher now, and Hanzo can feel the base of his cock beginning to swell, tugging on his rim with every forceful buck. “I think you’ll come on my knot.” 

Hanzo’s breathing is unsteady, his heartbeat in his throat, riding a high that’s directly tied to join of their bodies. 

“Let me hear you say it.” 

How Hanzo wishes his brother would not demand such filthy things from him. Though like this, with his back bent and his legs splayed wide, the wet slap of Genji’s balls against his ass as he bottoms out inside him. Hanzo supposes the damage is already done. 

“I want--” Hanzo’s eyes narrow at him, “you to ah--” Genji cuts him off with a particularly brutal thrust and a smug grin, “knot me.” 

A hum. 

“Knot me please, Genji,” Hanzo can’t place what comes over him, some primal part breaking the last of his stoic exterior. He’s begging, the ache of his heat back in full swing. “Alpha, Genji please-- give it to me.” The words spill forth, his tongue finally loose, feeling Genji’s cock swell, and one of those talented, fine boned hands drop between his thighs to grip at his length.

Genji’s breath comes rough and short. “Anija.” Bucking forward, he buries himself to the hilt, his face creased in ecstasy.

It happens slowly and all at once. 

Genji’s knot widens, swelling up inside him, splitting Hanzo on the sheer girth of it. Then Genji curses, a twisted string of Japanese and Hanzo’s name, thick pulses of come filling Hanzo’s needy body. 

Gone in an instant, the bite on Hanzo’s neck aches, impossibly hot seed spilling into him, triggering a gut deep reaction he can’t hold back. His cock spurts weakly, wrung out by Genji’s clever fingers, jerking him hard and fast. “Haa-- ah.”

The hold Genji has on him weakens, setting him down against the futon. Genji’s eyes shine bright in the low lit room, looking golden, a smile on his face. 

Their lips meet without the desperation of before, something slower and sweet. Genji still tastes like him. Blood and slick. His fingers kneading their way into Hanzo’s hair. 

“Thank you, anija.” 

A shuddering huff leaves Hanzo’s lips, they’re tied together, Genji’s come sealed inside of him. Both of them try to catch their breath. Hanzo’s fingers trace down Genji’s neck, rubbing over the glands heavy with alpha scent. It doesn't leave him limp like an omega, but Hanzo watches a shudder wrack down Genji’s spine all the same. 

“I think you owe me a bite, little brother.” Hanzo chides, voice warm, easing the air between them. 

“My neck is yours.” 

He can hear that for what it truly is; an offer. If he wishes to take it. His heat has subsided enough in the peace of the afterglow that he can think straight for the first time since it begun. 

“You are mine.” 

It doesn’t need explaining. 

They always knew, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feed me your comments, I love them! ♥  
> You can also come visit my equally incest filled tumblr @[trueblackhand](https://trueblackhand.tumblr.com/) \--if you're into that kinda thing.


End file.
